


Of Frozen Blue Roses

by MapleTreeway



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU, Fluff and Angst, M/M, More characters will be added as they're introduced, Slow Burn, The Snow Queen AU, classist society, ice king au, royalty in disguise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8938483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleTreeway/pseuds/MapleTreeway
Summary: Ever since Yuuri had been small, he had fallen in love with tales of the Ice King.  (Loosely inspired by The Snow Queen and Beauty and the Beast.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to give a _huge_ shoutout to my beta reader Lily! Without her, this wouldn't have been half as good. Also to my friend chickbit, who also edited and gave a different pov on the writing style. Thanks a bunch!!
> 
> Province = Kingdom. They're synonymous. Also the capital city where the palace is located is called Yusupov. I feel like I should clear that up lmao.

Yuuri wrapped his arms around himself and shoved his face deeper into his scarf. His friend Minako had told him that the Northern Province got cold, but it seemed that she had decided to leave out just _how_ cold it got. _A heads up would’ve been nice_ , Yuuri thought as he wove through the crowd, skillfully dodging beggars and salesmen who wanted his attention. His ears were most likely red by now, if not blue; and the only thing he could feel from his face was pain that nipped at his skin and told him to seek shelter from the harsh wind. _Yes_ , he thought again, a little annoyed, _Minako could have warned me about this. And about the noise._

“Piroshkis for sale! Piroshki!”

“Ice skates!”

“Ten cents gets you bread! Ten cents gets you bread!”

“A coat you?” a saleswoman asked Yuuri in broken Common tongue, shoving a fur coat into his face. Yuuri’s eyes widened in surprise and he took a step back to distance himself. “You want coat?” the old woman repeated again.

“No...um...nyet...” Yuuri said, attempting what little Northern tongue he knew

She shrugged it off and turned around and got lost in the throng of people. Yuuri let out a sigh of relief.

He was supposed to meet Minako at the inn where they were going to stay. She had left for the Northern Province two weeks ahead of him on a business call, and had offered to find him a place to board while she was there so he wouldn’t have to when he arrived for the Winter Solstice Festival. “Trust me,” she had said, “by the time you arrive, nothing good will be left. You’d get ripped off or thrown in a haystack.” Neither of those ideas seemed very appealing, so Yuuri took her up on her offer, promising to pay her back.

The name of the inn was an unintelligible Northern phrase that Yuuri couldn’t even begin to try and pronounce. Thankfully, Minako had remembered the language barrier and had written in her letter that it was located towards the west end of the city, marked by a moon-shaped sign hanging from the wall. _You can’t miss it,_  she wrote.

Yuuri clutched the letter tighter in his fist. Why they had to stay on the other side of the city he had no idea. At least it was closer to the royal palace. Maybe if luck was on his side he could catch a glimpse of the legendary Ice King, but the idea sounded too far fetched even in his own mind. What kind of old man would leave his palace? Especially so close to the Grand Prix, when he was surely going over last-minute details? It _was_ the biggest international competition after all. The man probably broke his back over it every year.

Something cold and wet fell on his nose, and he looked up. Snowflakes fell from the dark sky. At first they came down slowly, big, wet, and fluffy; but a few minutes later the wind picked up and they started to fall faster. They stuck to the pavement, to the roofs of houses, to Yuuri’s clothes. Within minutes there was a patchy dusting of white on the ground, and all Yuuri could think of was the shelter the inn would bring. It would do him no good to be stuck in a snowstorm in a foreign land where he couldn’t speak the language. That would mean having to beg a stranger for shelter and hope they spoke Common, and then wind up getting kicked to the curb because he might’ve said something inadvertently offensive in broken Northern if they didn’t. And if he was kicked to the curb, he’d for sure lose a finger and toe from frostbite. Maybe he’d even freeze to _death._ God what would he tell Minako then? Nothing, because he’d be dead.

Yuuri hurried faster along the road.

By the time Yuuri reached the inn, the snow on the ground was had become a thin blanket. He stomped his feet a few times, took his hat off and shook out his hair, wiped his glasses dry.

The inn was warm thanks to the fire crackling in the hearth, and looked clean enough. Sturdy wooden beams supported the ceiling in places, while similar-looking ones lined the walls for decoration. Benches and tables were placed in a way to suggest space despite the small interior, and a few people were seated on them, laughing over pints. Yuuri looked for Minako. She loved anything with alcohol in it. She’d drink the town dry and _still_ want more. He didn’t understand it in the slightest, but maybe that was because his skating career didn’t allow for him to drink. Not that he was much a fan of alcohol anyway.

“ _Prasteete_ ,” someone said. Yuuri made a surprised noise and moved away from the doorway. A man grunted his thanks as he entered, carrying luggage. Yuuri watched as he made his way to the left, where a wooden desk stood. The man said something in Northern to the woman working there, and she jotted something down on a piece of paper before handing him a key.

“Oh,” Yuuri said to himself. “I’m an idiot.”

Picking up his own belongings, he was about to do the same thing when he heard a, “Yuuri! Yuu- _ri!”_

“Minako? Wh —”

She crashed into him, effectively interrupting his sentence. Breaking out of the hug, she righted his glasses and brushed off imaginary snow from his shoulders, the warmest of smiles on her face. “About time you made it. The snowstorm’s picking up and I was getting worried,” she said in the Eastern tongue. “Come on, I’ll show you to our rooms. We’re across from each other, is that alright?”

Yuuri nodded, still a bit surprised from the impromptu hug. He smelled alcohol faintly on her breath, and so he chalked up her loud behavior to tipsiness.

Minako tugged him across the room past the laughing people on benches and to the closed door on the other side. She opened it, asking Yuuri how his trip went all the while. “It was fine. I got lost once or twice but it was no big deal,” he answered, stepping into the hallway. It smelled oddly of pine needles. “The city is so loud, though…”

“You say that as if you’ve never been in a city before,” Minako said. She led him to the left and then turned a corner, past closed doors and a staircase. Rooms, if Yuuri had to guess.

“The cities I’ve been to haven’t been like this.”

“Yeah well the cities you’ve been to haven’t hosted grand festivals either. You’ll get used to Yusupov soon.”

They walked in silence for a minute or two until Minako let out a soft “a-ha!” and stopped suddenly to fish out her keys. She unlocked the door to the room directly to their right and motioned that Yuuri go in, which he did.

It was a quaint little cold room with one bed, a chair, a desk, and a wardrobe. He gazed longingly at the bed for a few seconds before wrenching his eyes away, wanting nothing more than to collapse upon it and fall asleep. The walls were unpainted wood, the floors the same, and it smelled like old pipe smoke. He walked further in, eyes wide, and noticed a closed-off door. _Probably the bathroom,_  he thought. All and all he liked it, and he turned around to tell Minako as much. She smiled again. “Good,” she said with a nod. “Here are the keys. Regrettably this place doesn’t allow you to light the fireplace; fire hazards and all.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll let you rest now. Travelling is always so damn taxing.”

Yuuri gave a soft, grateful smile while Minako made her way out of the room. She was just about to close the door too when her expression softened. “If it gets to be too much because of the noise or people, there’s a frozen lake not far from here. You packed your ice skates, right?”

Yuuri nodded, hands tightening on his luggage. “Thank you again, Minako,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

The door closed with a soft click, and Yuuri let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Minako was right, travelling was _exhausting_. The furthest he’d ever travelled from his home in Hasetsu was to a city a good three days away. This week long endeavor to the Northern Province owned his body, especially his feet. And to think he’d have to do it all again in two week’s time…  
  
Yuuri shed his jacket, scarf, hat, and shoes before collapsing on the bed. He let out a groan, thankful for a mattress, and placed his glasses on the bedside. Blurry snowflakes fell outside the frosted window, and he watched them go as he drifted to sleep.

* * *

 Yuuri wrapped his hands around a hot cup of tea and sipped at it idly. His eyes roamed the inn’s dining room as he waited for Minako to come sit with him. Late mornings meant that there weren’t a whole lot of people around to crowd the place, as breakfast was over and people were out sightseeing. Which was a good thing. Yuuri didn’t care for crowded areas too much.

To his left a ways, some people were playing cards, loud and semi-obnoxious in their banter. To his right, closest to the hearth, a lonely looking man sat reading a book and nursing a pint. The hearth wasn’t lit with a fire like it had been yesterday, which made the room a bit cold. Yuuri shivered. What was taking Minako so long? He traced the scratches on the wooden table out of boredom. _I should be more patient_ , he thought. _She’s helped me with so much..._

Sighing, he took another sip and let his mind wander. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel some form of excitement for the Winter Solstice Grand Prix to begin. This year’s event was scheduled to be second to last — which was why Yuuri damn well made sure to go. He’d spent his savings on this trip; his pockets were about as dry as a well in summer.

Somewhere deep inside him, he hoped that maybe — just maybe — he’d be able to compete. It was an unrealistic dream because one, he hadn’t signed up for it and two, he was a commoner. But like how it was a dream to fly or read minds, it was a dream nonetheless.

“Sorry for making you wait,” Minako said, shaking Yuuri out of his thoughts. She slid into the chair across from him, a pint in hand.

Yuuri shrugged. “It’s fine.”

A silence. Then:

“Yuuri, what if you were able to compete?”

Yuuri nearly spat his drink out. “For the Grand Prix?” he asked, looking at her with wide eyes. It was as if she had read his mind.

“Yes. It’s always been a dream of yours, right?”

“Well yeah, but —”

Minako waved him off. There was a fire in her eyes and she leaned against the table, hair falling over her shoulder. “Think of what that would mean for our status.”

Yuuri made a face and leaned back in his chair. He chewed on the idea. If there was any possible way for him to get picked, it _would_ be kind of a big deal. It’d shatter the glass ceiling for commoners who wanted to compete in figure skating. And if he did well, it would allow for more commoners to follow suit. But then again if he failed at it, it would only further push the idea that commoners weren’t worthy to skate at the competitive level.

His heart started to race just thinking about that amount of pressure. He was good at skating, yes, but not _that_ good…

“It’d be something,” he said finally, not meeting her eyes.

Minako opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a sudden yell from the table to the left of them. Both she and Yuuri turned to watch in muted surprise as one of the men leapt up and slammed his cards down. He yelled something in Northern, cheeks flaring red. His opponent angrily yelled something back in response and got up too.

“We should go,” Minako whispered to Yuuri. “I don’t want to be here when they start physically fighting.”

Yuuri nodded, sliding out his seat when the second man rolled up his sleeves. “You said there was a frozen lake nearby?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll go grab my skates real quick. Meet you outside?”  
  
Minako nodded.

* * *

 “Minako,” Yuuri started, “do you think we’ll see the Ice King?”

Minako looked up at the clear sky, her walking pace slowing as she thought. The wind pulled her hair back, reddened her cheeks from the cold. She stayed silent for a moment or two until finally she said, “Doubt it. The competitions are held inside the palace. Maybe we’ll see him when the names are being drawn, but who knows.”

Yuuri’s heart fell. “Oh.”

“Don’t be so disappointed, Yuuri. He’s just some old man with a crown on his head.”

 _Just some old man with a crown on his head who can skate unbelievably well_ , Yuuri amended in his mind. With a sigh, he turned his attention to the buildings they passed on their way to the lake. They were styled so differently than those in the Eastern Province, and it sent a pang of homesickness through him. Two days in and already he missed his home...how unreasonable. He should be excited — he was finally going to see the Winter Solstice Grand Prix! The competition of his dreams was going to start soon and he was going to be in the same city where it happened.

Ever since Yuuri had been small, he had wanted to go. But the trip was too dangerous or too long or the money not enough. Which was fine; he held no grudges over it.

And ever since Yuuri had been small, he had been infatuated with tales of the Ice King. Once a traveller, stopping for the night at his parents' onsen, had told him the story of a king in the Northern Province who had traded his heart to a witch just so he could skate. Yuuri had listened in earnest as the man described the king’s magical ability to dazzle his audience, charm suitors, and enthrall nobility. But like the ice he skated on, his heart was frozen. Cold to the core. And that was how it would remain until his dying breath. Because of this, he had received the nickname of the Ice King.

Months later another traveller had passed through and told a similar tale. Instead of trading his heart, the king had been cursed by a witch when he was child. Out of grief, he had dedicated himself to figure skating, and quickly became the best skater in all four Provinces. Seeing what she had done, the witch had returned on the king's seventeenth birthday. She had then gifted him a frozen blue rose as a compromise, and told him that should the rose melt and bloom through true love, the curse would be lifted. The Ice King, angered by her passive insult, had then banned her from the land. His heart was frozen — who could ever fall in love with someone cursed to be so selfish and cold? 

Yuuri had fallen in love with both versions.

He had relayed them to his friends Yuuko and Takeshi. His excitement had been contagious, and when winter rolled around they all went to a nearby lake and skated the days away. It quickly became their favorite pastime, more so than snowball fighting, and to say that ice skating didn’t become part of their lives was a lie.

“I’m going to become the Ice King!” Yuuri had exclaimed once, making a crown with his hands as he wobbled onto the lake.

Yuuko had laughed with him from where she sat on the snowy shoreline. “Watch out for the witch!”

“What witch — _ah!_ Takeshi!”

The world had flown on its head as Takeshi tackled him on the ice. “Give me your heart!” Takeshi had roared, tickling Yuuri.

_“T-Takeshi!”_

The memory rang in Yuuri’s ears as he now gazed upon the lake in front of him. It was a fairly big lake, bigger than the one in Hasetsu anyhow, with pine trees surrounding its snow-covered banks. On the other side, up on top of a small hill, the royal palace was just barely visible. Yuuri’s breath hitched when he saw it. _The Ice King,_ he thought. Instinctively, he pulled his ice skates closer towards his chest, wondering what his idol was doing at this very moment.

It wasn’t late in the afternoon, just after three, which meant the Ice King could be doing a number of things. Planning the Grand Prix, meeting with nobles, signing laws, _choosing who was going to compete_. Or maybe he was just ice skating inside. Yuuri had heard rumors of the grandeur of the ice rink inside the royal palace. Heard that it was made from witchcraft and magic and sheer force of will. 

Having an enclosed ice rink was unimaginable to Yuuri. The mere idea of being able to skate year round didn’t seem fathomable. The room it was in would have to be freezing all year, which was a problem come summer, when temperatures easily rose above zero degrees. Then again, this was the _Ice King_ people talked about. If he had bargained his heart for magical skating abilities, who was to say he hadn’t gone the extra mile and asked for an ice rink as well?

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to skate?” Minako asked, breaking him from his thoughts. She was halfway down the slope already, the snow up to her calves.

Yuuri blinked. “Skate,” he said, following her. He took care with his footing so as not to slip, holding onto nearby trees as he went. When he reached the bottom, he made his way over to a nearby log. It was dead and rotting and Yuuri didn’t know _how_ it didn’t collapse when he sat down on it.

“You want to show me what you’ve been working on, Yuuri?” Minako asked, plopping right beside him.

“Hmm?”

“Your program! You said you were going to incorporate the new dance moves I’ve taught you.”

“Oh. I did say that, didn’t I?” He tugged off his boots to replace them with his skates. “Let me warm up first and then I’ll show you.”

Minako patted his back with a supportive smile when he handed her his skate guards. “Of course,” she said.

The feel of ice underneath his feet was unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. An estranged best friend. Yuuri grit his teeth, kicking himself for not camping by lakesides during his travelling. Winter only offered a limited time for frozen lakes and ice skates; he was a fool if he didn’t practice every chance he got. To compensate for said lack of practice, he started to take a lap around the lake. Sunlight, weak in its warmth, caressed his face with cold rays and glittered the ice below his feet. He let out an easy smile, closing his eyes to soak up the feeling. God it felt so _good_ to be gliding across a lake again. And if he tried hard enough, he could imagine himself being back in Hasetsu skating with Yuuko and Takeshi.

But the memory faded as quick as it came.

When Yuuri opened his eyes again a few seconds later, he was almost on the other side of the lake, closest to the palace. A figure — a man — stood on the shoreline, his hair as silver as the moon. He was tall and comfortably dressed and held golden ice skates in one hand, while the other hand touched his face. Yuuri slowed his speed to get a better look at him, squinting to see him clearer. There was no crown upon the man’s brow or anything else to suggest status of nobility. Nothing to indicate if he was a commoner either.

 _He’s watching me,_ Yuuri thought, nearing him. Tentatively, he lifted his hand in a polite wave of hello. The man nodded in response, and that was that. Yuuri skated away back to Minako to complete his lap, wind whipping his face as he picked up speed again.

“Got a good feel for the ice?” Minako asked once he was in hearing distance again.

Yuuri nodded, halting just a few feet away from her. “Yes,” he replied. “I, um, I apologize in advance for any mistakes in the program. I haven’t practiced it very much.” Before she could respond, Yuuri turned away from her to skate over to the middle of the lake. Taking a deep breath in, he poised himself into position, one hand on his stomach and the other on his forehead.

And then he started to skate.

He had no music, no background noise save for the rustle of the trees. And yet he felt an imaginary melody flow out his mind and through his body. Every spin and every step sequence on time to the melancholic, lonely tune in his mind. His arms seemingly moved on their own accord too, right down to his fingertips. An outstreched motion here, a balled up fist there.

Yuuri danced and danced and danced. He forgot about Minako, forgot about the man, forgot about the world. His mind went blank — only half-registering the fact that he was using the whole of the lake to skate — and the only thing he felt was an adrenaline rush. Skating seemed to always give him such a high, particularly when he pushed himself so.

He landed the first jump with ease. A smile graced his face at that, and it grew wider with every other jump he landed.

The program ended before any major form of weariness could creep up on Yuuri during the performance. However when he stood in his ending position, with his arms raised to the sky and hands intertwined as if in prayer, his whole body started to shake from exertion. He gasped, lungs heaving for air, and brought his hands down to clutch at his chest. Just how out of shape was he? It couldn’t be so much, could it? God he needed _air_. He needed to _breathe_.

“Katsuki Yuuri!” He heard Minako yell from in front of him. “That was amazing!”

Behind him, another person was clapping. _The man_ , Yuuri thought. He looked over his shoulder and noticed that the silver-haired man was now on the ice, his golden ice skates reflecting the sunlight. Vaguely, Yuuri wondered how in the four Provinces someone could afford _golden_ ice skates, but he brushed the thought away. He didn’t want to know.

They held eye contact longer than necessary, the man’s blue eyes narrowing a bit before widening with a sudden realization of something. Yuuri wanted to ask just what it was he saw, but before he could, he heard Minako call out his name again. The man nodded towards her, as if he was giving Yuuri permission to leave, and Yuuri finally broke his gaze so he could return to the shoreline.

Minako was _ecstatic_. “Yuuri, that footwork was flawless! Your flexibility needed some work, but I’m still so proud!” she exclaimed, tears in her eyes, hands clasped together.

 _It couldn’t have been that good,_ Yuuri thought. _I haven’t practiced it very much._ “Thanks,” he said anyway. His dance teacher was always one for manners.

“Oh it’s such a shame you can’t compete in the Grand Prix.”

“Could you imagine if I could?” He shook his head, a self-deprecating smile on his face.

“You would have blown everyone away!” Minako exclaimed, leaning closer to him. She was making the face she reserved only for when she was being dead serious; Yuuri recognized it immediately. “Yuuri, you could give the nobles a run for their money,” she said firmly.

“I don’t think so...”

“Yes, Yuuri, you _could_. It isn’t fair that only nobles are allowed to compete. Don’t let your commoner status pull you down!”

Yuuri’s eyes grew wide at Minako’s accidental insult. That wasn’t — he didn’t — being a commoner...sure he would never be as good as the nobility who practiced the sport, but that was entirely based on lack of coaching. Skating was seen as a noble sport anyhow. A luxury. Yuuri, the commoner he was, barely received enough money from his performances. How on earth could he afford a coach? The highest sum he’d garnered was from a private showcasing for the Eastern King’s Court; the pay _still_ had been nowhere near comfortable. After he had finished his routine, the king made a few flippant comments on how some techniques weren’t honed and how it was underwhelming and how Yuuri could have done a million times better. So yes, his commoner status very well pulled him down and restricted his skating.

“I’m going back out on the ice,” he said after a moment. A perfect deflection. “If you want to leave before me because of the cold, I understand.”

“How will you get back?”

“I’ll remember the way somehow. It’s not that far to the inn from here.”

Without waiting for Minako’s approval, he glided back out towards the center of the lake. The man with the golden skates was practicing step sequences when he got there. With the skill he had and the smooth executions, Yuuri guessed that he had a coach, which therefore meant he had some form of noble blood in him.

Yuuri immediately felt fifty times smaller.

He watched, eyes wide, as the man transitioned from step sequence to jump to spin effortlessly. Watched as the man brought his leg way above his head and held it there with his hands, hair blowing in the wind. The man then slowed his spin to drop his leg and reposition himself into a layback spin, quickly becoming a blur. His movements captured Yuuri’s attention so much so that Yuuri didn’t know he was staring until the man made eye contact again as he came out of the spins. Blue eyes met brown, ice to amber, and Yuuri’s breath hitched.

 _Oh_.

Out of pure embarrassment and shock at being caught, Yuuri skated away. The man probably thought him a creep for watching too long. Probably thought him a lowly commoner — which wasn’t far off the mark. Yuuri’s shirt was frayed at the edges; his pants patched up in places. His skates were battered and worn; a total contrast to the man’s own skates. Yuuri could feel waves of judgement roll over him. Creep creep _creep_.

Frustrated, Yuuri set himself up for a jump. It was no good, though. He flubbed it as soon as his feet lifted off the ground. His speed was too fast, his rotations not quick enough to catch up, and he hit the ice hard. For a few seconds he just laid there, wondering if it was worth it to get up or not. Probably not. He had failed at an easy jump right in front of a man who most likely could’ve executed it flawlessly. There was no coming back from that.

The ice felt cool against his cheek. It comforted him; it whispered the tune of ice skates gliding closer.

 _Oh no_.

“Do you need a hand?” The man asked in Common. His accent was pleasant to the ears, his tone good-natured. Yuuri looked up at him and took in the way the setting sun illuminated his silver hair, took in the way his kind smile lit up his eyes, the way the movement of his shoulder caused his scarf to fall when he offered his hand. At that moment in time, he was ethereal.

Yuuri gulped, reminded himself not to stare, and replied back in the same language, “No, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Yuuri got up, face flushed. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Earlier?” The man echoed, confused.

“F-For when I was staring at you skate. That might’ve come across as creepy so…”

To his surprise, the man let out a laugh. “I didn’t find that creepy at all! It was one figure skater observing another, no? Don’t feel bad.”

Yuuri gave a shy smile in response.

“What’s your name?” The man asked. His eyes traveled up and down Yuuri’s body in assessment. The action only lasted a fleeting second, but it was enough to make Yuuri feel self-conscious.

“Katsuki Yuuri. What’s yours?”

“Viktor,” Viktor said. Before Yuuri could ask his last name, he continued on, “Now is Katsuki your first name or surname?”

“Surname.”

Viktor hummed and put a finger to his lip, and a silence fell between Yuuri and him like snow. Yuuri shifted from one foot to the other, almost certain that he was being assessed again. He picked at the ends of his shirt and looked away, down towards the ice. What could Viktor possibly see in him to judge him so?

“Yuuri,” Viktor said at last, breaking the silence, “dance with me?”

“Dance? With you?” Yuuri repeated dumbly, snapping his head up to look at him again.

“It’ll be fun!”

“No I…” _I wouldn’t be able to catch up. I’m not good enough to pair skate with you._

“You don’t want to?”

Viktor’s face looked bewildered, like he wasn’t used to people rejecting him. Yuuri took a step back, heart racing through his chest and palms starting to sweat. He had to leave. He couldn’t stand to talk or look at him much more. “I have to go,” he said. The words tripped over his tongue in a stutter as he said them.

“Will I see you again?” Viktor asked, taking a half-step closer.

Yuuri didn’t respond; he just turned and skated away as fast he could. _I shouldn’t have ever come here_ , he thought. _I’m not good enough_. In his haste to get off the ice, he nearly slipped on the snow. His saving grace was the nearby log, which he practically all but fell on, and he immediately started to unlace his skates. His boots lay off to the side, out of reach, which made getting them just a bit difficult because of the snow. By the time Yuuri got them on, his socks were wet with melted snow.

Minako was already at the top of the hill, scarf blowing in the wind. Yuuri called out her name once twice before she turned around. “Done already?” she yelled. “That was too quick!”

Yuuri ran to catch up with her, ice skates flying in hand. He hated how wet his feet felt. “I’ll come back later,” he said in between breaths when he finally reached her, his hands on his knees and chest heaving.

“How do you expect to better yourself if you don’t practice, Yuuri? The sun’s not even down yet.”

“Minako, please…”

Minako made a disapproving noise. “As a figure skater, you ought to have more self-discipline. You think the Ice King would turn down a chance to skate?”

Yuuri felt a stab of guilt hit him.

“But if today was enough for you, then so be it,” she continued. “Let’s go back to the inn; we can practice on your flexibility there. God knows you need it.”

Grateful for the lecture to be over, Yuuri followed her. He was tempted to look back to see if Viktor was still skating or not, but he steeled his resolve and didn’t. Viktor had probably forgotten all about him already.

* * *

 “This is so exciting!” Minako exclaimed, tugging on Yuuri’s sleeve. Yuuri smiled in response, looking up at the raised platform where a dozen guards were standing.

 It was finally the day of the drawing. In just a few minutes, the Ice King would read out the names of the six competitors selected to compete in the Final. Of course all the competitors were of noble blood, and so they were all trained to be skillful at figure skating. Since the Grand Prix was open to all of the Four Provinces, Yusupov essentially became a melting pot full of people from all over; all of them cheering on their own respective kingdoms. The first four competitors were chosen randomly from each Province, while the last two were picked regardless of kingdom.

 And then in the following week and a half, the competitions would begin.

 Yuuri’s nerves were _frayed_.

 In just a few minutes he would finally _finally_ see the man he’d always looked up to. He’d hear his voice and put a face to name. It would be beautiful and awe-inspiring and maybe — just _maybe_ — the Ice King would glance in his direction and spot him amongst the sea of people. Realistically, Yuuri doubted it would happen. And even if it did, he wasn’t sure just _what_ he would do.

 A hush fell across the crowd. Minako’s hand grabbed tighter around Yuuri’s arm, and they both anxiously watched the platform. Somewhere out of sight, trumpets started to play, signalling the arrival of someone important. Not a few seconds later, a balding old man walked up to the front of the stage, dressed in formal attire. The crowd clapped for him upon sight.

Yuuri glanced at Minako, heart falling slightly to see she wasn’t as confused as he was. He had been hoping the Ice King would be a bit more young and fit-looking. Not...like that. It was rather underwhelming. But it made sense, he supposed. Legends didn’t pop up around young rulers. Yuuri had always had a feeling that the Ice King was old anyway.

The man nodded his thanks, motioning the crowd to be still. When they finally were, he finally spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in Common, “Nobles and peasants alike, it is with great _displeasure_ that I bring you the news that the beloved King Nikiforov —”

“The Ice King!” someone yelled from behind Yuuri. That earned the person a few whoops and some laughter.

The man on the platform narrowed his eyes. Blatantly ignoring the outburst, he carried on. “King Nikiforov sends his sincerest regrets and apologies for not being able to attend today’s drawing of names. In his stead, I, Yakov Feltsman, will announce those competing.”

“Wait, so that’s not him?” Yuuri whispered to Minako.

“Apparently not,” she replied. Her eyes were still glued in front of her, so Yuuri turned his attention back to Yakov. He felt oddly relieved.

“...applause until the end,” Yakov finished. He fished out a letter from his jacket, unfolding it to read out the names. “From the Western Province,” he began, “Jean-Jacques Leroy. From the Southern Province, Sara Crispino. From the Eastern Province, Guang-Hong Ji. And finally from the Northern Province, our own Mila Babicheva. At the random draw, Christophe Giacometti fills the fifth spot while Yuuri Katsuki fills the sixth spot. Congratulations and good luck to all those competing.”

All around Yuuri, people were applauding for their chosen skaters. Hats were thrown in the air; mass hugs were given. The Winter Grand Prix Final had officially started with the announcement of the six skaters, and the festivities could begin in earnest now.

Yuuri just felt numb.

Minako let go of his arm to spin him around and look at him properly. “You’re picked,” she said, a shocked expression on her face. _“You’re picked, Yuuri.”_

“There has to be some mistake. I _can’t_ be. I didn’t even enter! Besides, I’m not part of the nobility,” Yuuri objected, voice riddled with denial. Oh god.

“It doesn’t matter — you’re picked! You’re going to compete! _Yuuri!”_ She hugged him tightly. He didn’t hug back. “This is your chance to show the nobility what commoners can do! You can prove it to the Ice King even!”

Oh _god_.

The world fell out from under Yuuri.

His head felt about ready to implode; the noise level between the crowd quickly became too high and too much. Minako continued to babble, but he couldn’t hear her. In a week and a half, he would have to skate in front of hundreds of people, _including_ the Ice King, and he would have to do it without _any_ formal training. How was he supposed to manage that? There was no way he could pull that off! Everyone would laugh at him when he was through — Yuuri was sure of it. _He wasn’t good enough._

Everything suddenly felt like it was punching him in the face repeatedly. The cheers, Minako, the upcoming competition. Everything was too much too much too much too much _too much_.

He needed it all to _stop_.

Yuuri pushed Minako off him. “I have to go,” he said, voice a pitch higher than usual. “I can’t breathe here.”

“Yuuri —”

“I’m sorry. I have to go.”

And then he ran.

* * *

Yuuri took in a shuddering breath, absent-mindedly fingering the laces of his ice skates. The lake loomed in front of him, big and frozen and glittering. A beautiful escape.

Or it would’ve been, if he had been alone. There was a lone figure skating on the side closest to the palace doing all sorts of tricks Yuuri couldn’t dream of doing. And the more Yuuri watched, the worse he felt. _If that’s one of the other competitors_ , he thought, _I’m done for._

The man skated closer and when the sun caught his skates, they shone gold. Yuuri’s eyes widened with the realization that it was Viktor he was watching, and intimidation crept down his neck like cold water. He tugged at his skates’ laces again, debating on whether or not to turn around and find somewhere else to go, when Viktor stopped abruptly. He faced him with a cocked head. Yuuri couldn’t see his eyes or face in general from the distance he was at, but he guessed that Viktor didn’t recognize him. Why would he?

He was just about to turn away and leave when he saw Viktor raise a hand and call out his name.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @hannicanny


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